We set a time. Around 6:00, but really, 
it is whenever we start to get hungry.
If we eat in, one or more of us prepares 
the meal, chopping cucumbers, slicing 
tomatoes, mixing in feta, avocado, 
olive oil and red wine vinegar. We boil 
yellow potatoes, drain them, slice three 
or four tablespoons of unsalted butter 
into the hot pot, watch it melt, warm 
the milk in the microwave using a pyrex
measuring cup, and mash the potatoes 
in the butter, and finally we add the warm 
milk, drop by drop, stirring with a spatula 
until it is smooth. The roast, be it steak 
or pork or chicken is seasoned and set 
in the oven to go until it is done. And when 
it is time, we remove the accumulated purses 
and sunglasses, notebooks and computers 
from the table. We might choose to set it with 
a tablecloth and fineries, or simply gather 
there, plates before us. The pillar candle 
in the middle is lit from a purple kitchen lighter 
which resides on the table, eager to be useful. 
We will say grace and dig in like gravediggers, 
deep and purposeful. Then we will finally talk, 
sharing the day’s highlights, vaguely aware 
that this is always going to be it.